


Haircut

by FrozenWings



Series: Untitled Young Cassandra Series [6]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Haircuts, LITTLE CASS, fluffy fluffy fluff, my first published fic!, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25097794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenWings/pseuds/FrozenWings
Summary: When the captain of Corona’s guard committed to raising the kidnapper’s daughter, he knew there’d be challenges. Who would have thought hair care would be one of the worst of these? Fortunately, Cass has an idea...
Relationships: Captain of Corona's Guard & Cassandra (Disney)
Series: Untitled Young Cassandra Series [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817698
Comments: 20
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my very first published fic! This also marks the first time I’m sharing my work with anyone besides myself and I am not a little nervous (just extremely).
> 
> Anyway, this was the second fanfiction I wrote, way back in May 2019 during the hiatus between seasons 2 and 3 of Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure (yes, it took me over a year to get up the guts to post this). I based it on my head canon (which was later proven to be actual canon) that Cass wore her hair long when she was a little girl. I envision her to be about five or six in this story.
> 
> The captain of the guard and Cassandra turned out to be my favorite pair of characters to write for. I actually have many more fics saved in my files centered on the two of them, all of which are part of the same still-untitled Young Cassandra series of stories (they share several OCs and knowledge of past events, hence my grouping them in a collection). I hope you enjoy!
> 
> The characters and world of 'Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure' belong to Disney, obviously.

“Hold still, Cassandra,” said the Captain through gritted teeth.

“NO!!”

Cap sighed as he took a temporary pause from the insurmountable task he was presently engaged in: brushing Cass’s hair. Despite having spent the last twenty-some minutes attempting to untangle the mass of snarls and curls that reached down to her waist, her hair looked no better than when he started; if anything, it looked worse. The fact that Cass refused to sit still only exacerbated his struggle. While he usually appreciated her active nature (in all honesty, she was more fit than most of the new recruits he received), it did make certain parenting tasks more difficult, especially those that required her to stay one place. Even now, as he collected himself before hazarding another pass through her hair with the brush, she squirmed in her seat and moved to get up. He clapped a hand firmly on her shoulder and pushed her back down. “I’m not finished, Cassandra. Stay still!" he said in the same commanding tone of voice he used with his men.

Sensing that her father meant business, Cass obliged, idly kicking her feet as they dangled from her chair. Behind her, Cap once again attempted to ply the brush through the sea of knots that consumed an ever-growing majority of his daughter’s hair. Unsurprisingly, the brush stuck fast. He moved his free hand from her shoulder to the back of Cass’s head as he applied force and pulled harder on the brush, wincing at the resultant ripping sound it made as it moved slowly and painfully through a particularly stubborn mat. This sound was quickly drowned out by Cass howling.

“NOOOO!!! DON’T!!! IT HURTS!!!”

With that, she leaped off her seat, bolted to the opposite side of the room, and glared back at her father, peering out from behind raven strands with defiant eyes. At the moment, she looked as though she perfectly lived up to the ‘wild child’ reputation she had so rightfully earned around the castle. Taking a deep breath to prevent himself from yelling, Cap attempted to appeal to the side of Cass that he knew aspired to one day join the guard. “Soldiers can tolerate a little pain," he stated in a level voice.

“Yeah, well, you don’t pull you men’s hair,” came Cass’s sassy retort as she stubbornly crossed her arms in front of her chest. “How do you know they wouldn’t howl?”

Cap sighed again, at a loss for what his next move should be. Adopting Cass had been a spur-of-the-moment decision made in a rare moment of emotionality and he hadn’t fully considered all the challenges of raising a child, especially a young girl. Dealing with girl hair was one of those unforeseen aspects. Sure, he considered asking for help; in fact he had. For a time the other female members of the palace staff had enjoyed trying to tame Cass’s feral locks, treating it as a sort of test of their mettle. But then she bit Ethel when the latter was making an attempt, and suddenly brushing Cass’s hair got placed in the same category as denying a request from King Frederic: something you just didn’t do. He supposed he _could_ order one of his men to try, but they were even more clueless about such matters than he was. Besides, most of them had started a pool for how long until he gave up and simply hacked off his daughter’s hair; to ask their assistance would be to lose (even more) face.

 _Just wait until she's a teenager_ , he thought with an inward shudder. Looking over at the clock and informing himself of the hour, he put down the brush, stood up, and stretched. As much as he hated to admit defeat, he had other things to attend to today and couldn’t afford to spend any more time on attempting to brush out Cass’s hair. Instead, he reached for a dark-maroon ribbon, and said, in a slightly exasperated tone, “Come on, Cass; I need to go to the marketplace today and you’re coming with me. I won’t have you running around the kingdom looking like your hair hasn’t been brushed in a month.” _No matter how true that may be,_ he mentally added ruefully.

Cass’s face brightened at these words. “The marketplace?!? Can we go to Uncle Monty’s? Can I get licorice? The black kind, not the red kind!” she asked, coming away from the wall and standing before her dad, face smiling and eyes shining; a sharp contrast to the unkempt appearance of her hair. Cap’s deteriorating mood lightened a bit at his daughter’s expression, though (still feeling sore from the hair care session) he endeavored to withold any acts of affection for the time being.

“No,” he replied sternly, trying to ignore just how fast her face fell. “We’re already behind schedule.” He bit his tongue, fighting the temptation to add that black licorice was only for little girls who let their fathers brush their hair. He refused to resort to bribes; after all, the only thing worse than dealing with a hellion was dealing with a spoiled hellion.

“Okay,” Cass said dejectedly, dropping her gaze to the floor. “Now,” said the captain, softer due to the pang of guilt he felt at having so quickly shot down Cass’s innocent request. “Can you stay still while I tie your hair back? If I’m going to take you out, you need to at least look a little respectable.” After all, if he looked as though he couldn’t manage his own daughter, people may begin to doubt how well he could manage troops. He knelt before her and offered a gentle smile, silently requesting her to turn around.

“Yes, Dad.” Cass could tell when her father was reaching the end of his patience. That, coupled with the rapid and complete denial of a trip to Uncle Monty’s, served to subdue her for the time being. Plus, she really did want to go to the marketplace and knew that if she didn’t at least look a little ‘respectable’ she'd be left behind. The Captain had impressed on her (on more than one occasion) the importance of cultivating a good public image (not that she particularly cared); whatever that meant, it was clear that having neat and tidy hair was an important part of it, so she consented to the ribbon.

“There,” Cap proclaimed with no small amount of relief. He surveyed his handiwork: a lopsided bow holding back an unruly mass of knotted, ink-black hair extending down the length of the girl’s back. _Well,_ he thought to himself, _at least it's not noticeable from the front_. This was one of those times where a compromise was equivalent to a victory.

Realizing her father was _finally_ done attending to her hair, Cass turned to face him, smiling once again. “Now can we leave?” she asked excitedly. “Sure thing.” Cap replied, pocketing his wallet. As Cass ran out the door ahead of him, he heard a shriek, a shouted curse, and a crash: Ethel, who had no doubt panicked at the sight of Cass barreling down the corridor, had dropped a basket of laundry and slammed into Jones, who was pushing a cart that had been full of weapons up until the present moment. He sighed for a third time that morning; the marketplace would have to wait a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hath officially contributed to this fandom! Huzzah! How thrilling!
> 
> And terrifying.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter (or at least didn't find it to be unbelievably bad).
> 
> Second chapter will be up soon (hopefully within a week). Stay tuned!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, thank you so much to everyone who read and/or left a kudos or comment on the first chapter! I’m so touched and beyond grateful for the kind words and gestures. It means a lot to me to see that people actually enjoyed what I wrote (and helps make posting this next chapter a slightly less nerve-wracking experience).
> 
> Anyway, here’s Chapter 2, from Cass’s POV this time. Hope you enjoy!

That afternoon found Cass sitting in an empty stall towards the back of the royal stables, admiring her new dagger. Granted, it wasn’t new-new, but it was new to her and that was good enough. Her and her father’s final stop while running errands in town was Xavier’s forgery to pick up one of the Captain’s best swords that had needed its hilt repaired. While the men were talking business matters, Cass had wandered around the shop, eyeing the many halberds, axes, and knives the lined the walls. Eventually, her gaze landed on table of old, discarded weapons, far beyond use; from past experience, she knew Xavier intended to melt them down and use the metal to make wrenches or horseshoes or whatever. Usually there was nothing of interest there, but today something caught her eye: a dagger, still shining and intact. Reverently, she had ran her finger along the blade, admiring the simple, deadly beauty of the thing, from its silver finish to its polished handle, glinting in the light from the forge's fire. It was the smallest dagger she had ever seen; judging by its size, it would probably fit perfectly in her hand, and she had ached to pick it up and see if this was true. Xavier had noticed her then and, seeing the longing in her eyes, offered it to her as a gift, saying that it was in too good condition to melt down for steel and deserved to go to someone who would appreciate it. Never wanting to discourage his daughter’s interest in weaponry, Cap hadn’t protested her accepting.

Even now, Cass still couldn’t believe her luck. Despite growing up surrounded by weapons she didn’t have any of her own; furthermore, all the ones in the barracks were too heavy for her to wield independently. This dagger was _perfect_ ; a far better prize than black licorice.

As Cass regarded her new possession in the dim light of the stable, she mentally went over everything she had done upon arriving back at the castle. The Captain had some work to attend to and had left her to her own devices. That day she had decided that ‘her own devices’ should consist of taking her dagger for a test run. After performing the impressive trick of transforming an old tablecloth into a pile of rags and producing two ten-foot pieces of rope from one twenty-foot length, she had proceeded to carve ‘X’s into a couple of trees, rid about half-a-dozen shrubs of a few spindly, leafless branches, and finally, realizing she had skipped the noonday meal, cut an apple into eight not-quite-perfect slices.

Her hunger satisfied, she contemplated how she should next occupy herself. What else might she apply her dagger to? As she thought, she wiped a hand across her brow, dashing away the beads of sweat that had begun making their way down her forehead. Though the day had started off mild, it had become quite hot. Even the relative coolness of the stable did little to dampen the effects of the stifling heat. The maroon ribbon that had been performing the heroic duty of keeping Cass’s unruly hair at bay had been lost hours ago (sometime between the rope and the trees), and the mass now hung heavy against her back, sweat causing it to stick to her neck. A few errant locks dared to fall in her face and the hand was raised once again to brush them out of the way with an exasperated grunt. Halfway through the gesture, though, the hand paused as an idea began to form in its owner’s mind. Gray-green eyes regarded the offending strands in a new light as they were rolled between fingers still sticky from lunch, assessing their thickness. An excited smile slowly broke across the girl’s face.

He never said she _couldn’t_.

Cass transferred the chunk of knotted hair to her left hand and tightened her grip on the dagger in her right. Carefully, delicately, her face twisted in intense concentration, she placed one razor-sharp edge of the blade against the lock and, involuntarily shutting her eyes, pushed outward with a slicing motion honed by an afternoon of destruction. She felt a dull pain emanating from her scalp as the blade, slowly but surely, pulled and then snapped first a few single strands, followed by the whole chunk with a quiet _*swip*_ sound.

Lowering her dagger to the floor, Cass slowly opened her eyes and uncurled her fingers from her fist, as though unsure of what, exactly, she was now holding. Upon doing so she stared as though in shock at the long section of hair she held, previously firmly attached to her head and now lying limp against her palm as though dead. The familiar sight of her lengthy, knotted, raven hair was rendered somewhat remarkable by the new circumstances surrounding it, hence her quiet amazement. Cass stayed this way for a minute or two, motionless, as she processed what had just transpired.

She had cut her hair.

As the words sunk in and their meaning clarified, the excited smile returned.

_She had cut her hair!_

Forty-five minutes later, Cass still sat in the stall, panting slightly from exhilaration and exertion. The floor surrounding her was now littered with innumerable clumps and wayward strands of the troublesome hair, the tool of choice still clutched firmly in her hand. It hadn’t been easy: her hair was naturally thick, made thicker by its abundance of mats, and she had had to contort herself in order to cut those sections that fell behind her. But she had done it! The Herculean task accomplished! She shook her head rapidly back and forth, enjoying the feeling of the newly-shortened strands whipping against her face, and marveled at how much lighter and cooler her head felt now that it was rid of the long, thick mane. The old, ever-present sensation of her hair's heavy weight pressing against her back and tugging at her scalp was now gone, replaced by blissful nothingness. As far as her young memoroy served, Cass had never felt better!

She stood and, after brushing off the hair and straw clinging to her skirt, proceeded to poke around the stables for something sufficiently large and shiny enough to allow her to view her reflection. Her search proving fruitless, she shrugged off the matter for the time being. There were mirrors, windows, and silver platters aplenty in the castle; she could see how she looked later. Besides, anything that _felt_ this good could only _look_ good. Cass smiled again, exceedingly proud of herself and her accomplishment. Wouldn’t her father be pleased when he learned that she had single-handedly solved their hair-brushing problem all by herself. He was always saying she should try and find solutions to her problems on her own before running to him, and now she had! Just like he taught her! The chore could now be done in half, no, _a quarter_ of the time! She couldn’t wait to show him. In fact, why wait? After all, she had a pretty good idea of where he was at the moment. 

With that, Cass tucked her dagger into her belt and sprinted out of the stables towards the barracks, enjoying the novel feelings of air rushing through shortened locks and running without the weight of her old hair. Wouldn’t her father be surprised!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, he’ll be surprised, alright.
> 
> Looking back, I really love how this chapter turned out. Descriptive passages of things or places or what characters are thinking and feeling are some of my favorite things to write, as well as Little Cass’s perspective; in this chapter, I got to do both.
> 
> Plus, I've always enjoyed the mental image of a young Cassandra running around the castle grounds 'testing out' her dagger in a relatively harmless but still destructive fashion. 
> 
> Only one chapter to go; like last time, I hope to have it up within a week from today.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I happened to glance at the hits this morning and YIKES!!! Over 100?!? I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that _anyone_ clicked on this and read what I wrote, let alone this many times. Thank you all so, so much!
> 
> Anyway, here's the third and final chapter. This one took a little longer to post since, after re-reading it, I felt that some minor adjustments were in order for the sake of clarity and making it more consistent with other fics I've written in this continuity. It also introduces the OC mentioned in the tags, borne solely of my desire for Cap to have someone (mostly) in his corner; I wound up using him quite a bit in later stories.
> 
> Enough of my rambling, though; let's see how things pan out for Cass and her dad.

“I think eight men should be enough to cover the south gate. What do you think, sir?”

Cap glanced up from his maps of the castle and its grounds to assess Williams' response. The silver-haired gentleman placed a hand on the table to steady himself as he surveyed the Captain’s plans with a practiced eye. Having officially retired a couple months back, Williams technically held no actual authority anymore. However he was still the possessor of great military experience, hence Cap's seeking of his input and approval. He was determined to learn as much as he could about heading up the royal guard from his mentor before the aging Williams made good on his oft-repeated vow to vacate the capital city for good and move to the countryside (even though he doubted the man would ever follow through with it, fond as he was of his old vocation and castle life).

Williams gave a satisfied nod and clapped Cap on the shoulder approvingly. “Good plan, Captain,” he stated with an approbatory grin. “Now, how about the harbor? The ambassadors will be more agreeable if they’re not constantly worrying about the security of their ships.”

Cap frowned as he considered this previously overlooked area in need of security. When he and Cass had returned from the marketplace, he had been greeted with news of the surprise arrival of ambassadors from two of the Seven Kingdoms. Such a matter called for increased security and organizing it demanded his immediate attention, keeping him thusly occupied for the better part of the afternoon. Thinking about his return from the village reminded him of Cass, and the part of his mind that wasn’t currently trying to distribute troops around Corona wondered what she had been up to while he was holed up in the barracks. He hadn’t heard any screaming, crashing, or general sounds of mayhem, so he assumed she had been staying out of mischief. He _had_ left her with a dagger, though.... 

Cap gave a quick shake of his head as if to rid himself of the idea. Hellion that she was, Cass, who was frequently found hanging around the barracks and armory, had proven herself quite responsible where weaponry was concerned, always affording the swords, spears, and halberds the respect they deserved. During their entire walk back home he had instructed her in proper dagger usage techniques, including to _not use it on people_ , and Cass had listened with rapt attention. There was no need to worry, he decided, and turned this remaining part of his mind to the guard distribution problem that necessitated solving, completely engrossed in the task.

As though summoned by his thoughts, the familiar sound of Cass’s light, quick steps sounded as she ran down the corridor of the barracks. “Hi Dad,” her eager voice called out upon stopping in the doorway.

“Hi sweetie,” came Cap’s distracted reply, his full attention still focused on his maps. Without looking up, he continued, “Do you need something?”

As he awaited his daughter’s response, he became keenly aware of the unnatural silence that had descended on the room. Gone was the scraping sound of weapons being moved around and the chatter of the surrounding men, replaced by disturbing nothingness. The quiet cut through his intense concentration, and he glanced furtively to his right to see if there was any sign of a problem. Jones and McCormack, previously engaged in the dual tasks of cleaning swords and gossiping like schoolgirls, had frozen, hands still poised on their halberds and rags, and were now staring slack-jawed and wide-eyed towards the door; Williams on his left was seen to have the same expression. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Cap finally raised his head to affix his gaze on Cass, still standing in the doorway. Once he did, he assumed the same dumbfounded expression, in utter disbelief at what he saw. After a few seconds, he composed himself sufficiently to bellow, “CASS!!! WHAT DID YOU DO?!?!?!”

“I cut my hair,” Cass proudly announced in response. She wore a self-satisfied smile and was twirling a short lock around one finger as though to draw attention to her handiwork. “Now we don’t have to waste time brushing it.”

Oh, she had cut her hair, alright. Gone was the messy, knotted, raven mane that had become a common sight around the castle, replaced by a style that (he was sure) was unconventionally and embarrassingly short for a girl. He couldn’t even say how short it was: some sections reached almost to her shoulders, while others barely came to her chin. Nothing was even, with most chunks having been sliced haphazard angles, and the whole thing had the ragged, moth-eaten appearance of something done without mirror or scissors which, he realized, noticing her new dagger tucked neatly in her belt, was probably true. Overall, it was hard to tell what looked worse: the previous tangled mess or this.

As the continued silence in the room stretched on for a minute, then a minute-and-a-half, then two, Cass’s excited expression faded into one of confusion as her hand fell to rest at her side. Why was everyone so quiet? Did she do something wrong? A closer look at the Captain seemed to confirm that this was the case: his face was getting redder by the second as he mentally counted ten, looking for all the world like a volcano trying to contain an impending eruption. There was no doubt about it: he was angry. Cass gulped, rooted to the spot, knowing full well what would soon follow. She steeled herself, though, ready for the confrontation she knew was about to arrive.

After reaching fifty, Cap felt calm enough to step out from behind his desk and approach his daughter and her ridiculous haircut without shouting loud enough for Old Corona to hear. Kneeling down to be at her eye level, he met her gaze with a stern expression, preparing to send her to her room to await a lecture and punishment for making such a mess of her hair and using her dagger in a completely inappropriate way. Cass readily returned his stare, not looking away. With a start, Cap noticed that there were no signs of fear or shame in her eyes, but rather defiance: she had no remorse for what she did and was prepared to fight for it. She _wanted_ this, like she had wanted the dagger at Xavier’s. She actually _wanted_ her hair short.

It was no secret that Cass hated having to devote hours a week to caring for the thick, curly locks when she'd rather be off exploring the castle and its grounds or trying to navigate the obstacles in the training yard. She had made this abundantly clear to him by way of protests and complaints and the way she'd routinely leave the sticks and leaves that somehow always found their way into the thicket of curls where they stuck fast rather than try to pick them out (which was _always_ fun). It was as though she (and, by association, him) were constantly engaged in a continual war with the mass, and more often than not it felt like they were on the losing end.

 _Well, she should have asked before doing something so rash_ , he mentally argued, taking in the chopped-off locks and stray strands of curly black still clinging to her skirt like tenacious burrs (which was something else that frequently found its way into her hair). _Yes, but would you have let her?_ a chiding, rational voice in the back of his mind argued. Something in Cap deflated at the thought as he begrudgingly admitted that, no, he wouldn't have.

A twinge of shame stirred in his chest as he realized that his insistence on witholding the white flag and keeping Cass’s hair long was more for _his_ sake, than hers. He had known for quite some time that he would succeed Williams in the role of captain, and Cap was determined to show that he was a more than appropriate choice for the position, able to exert control over any situation. Every facet of his life, in his eyes, should reflect such a sense of order and discipline, and that included how he managed his daughter. Now that he thought about it, he had feared that allowing her to do as she truly wished with her hair, bucking Coronan social norms, would have reflected poorly on his abilities as a leader and father. But now it was apparent that he had allowed his sense of pride to get in the way of something more important: Cass's well-being, allowing her to be saddled with the heavy, waist-length hair against her wishes. He wanted her to learn to think for herself, didn’t he? Deciding what to do with her hair certainly fell into that category.

Besides, he never said she _couldn’t_.

Cap’s expression softened as he reached out and brushed Cass’s bangs (good Lord, she had given herself bangs) out of her eyes. Looking at it more closely, this cut really did suit her, tomboyish and practical, yet becoming in its own unique way. The defiance drained out of Cass’s eyes and was replaced by confusion. Where was the argument? The battle of wills she had been expecting? She looked at her father with puzzlement as he stood and offered her his hand. “Come on; let’s find a pair of scissors. If you’re going to insist on wearing your hair like that, we can at least make sure it’s even.” Cass, realizing what her father was implying, looked up at the Captain, faced wreathed in one of the largest smiles he'd seen on the girl, and he couldn't help but mirror the expression. She took the proffered hand and led him back down the hall, fairly racing across the flagstones in her eagerness. As they left, the men in the barracks were apparently freed from their frozen states, as evidenced by the raucous laughter coming from that vicinity. Any embarrassment Cap may have felt, though, was erased, in part by his daughter’s happiness and in part by the booming voice of Williams, clear as a clarion call over the men’s laughter.

“HA! I _said_ she’d just go and cut it herself! All right, boys: time to pay up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And that's my fic!
> 
> I did it!! Whew, what an experience! I never intended for anyone besides myself to read 'Haircut' back when I wrote it over a year ago, but I am so glad I ultimately decided to share. It's really been great seeing everyone's responses and encouraging messages; they went a long way towards easing my nerves about posting this. It really was a lot of fun and I'll definitely post more (just a matter of picking one...). Thanks again for reading! Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
